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Gone Girl

Cover of Gone Girl

Gone Girl

A Novel
Marriage can be a real killer. One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn, takes that statement to its darkest place in this...More
Marriage can be a real killer. One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn, takes that statement to its darkest place in this...More
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Description-
  • Marriage can be a real killer. One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn, takes that statement to its darkest place in this unputdownable masterpiece about a marriage gone terribly, terribly wrong. As The Washington Post proclaimed, her work "draws you in and keeps you reading with the force of a pure but nasty addiction." Gone Girl's toxic mix of sharp-edged wit with deliciously chilling prose creates a nerve-fraying thriller that confounds you at every turn.
    On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy's fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick Dunne's clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick Dunne isn't doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife's head, but hearing from Amy through flashbacks in her diary reveal the perky perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge. Under mounting pressure from the police and the media--as well as Amy's fiercely doting parents--the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he's definitely bitter--but is he really a killer? As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister Margo at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn't do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was left in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet?
    Employing her trademark razor-sharp writing and assured psychological insight, Gillian Flynn delivers a fast-paced, devilishly dark, and ingeniously plotted thriller that confirms her status as one of the hottest writers around.




    From the Hardcover edition.
 
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Excerpts-
  • From the book

    Chapter One

    Nick Dunne
    the day of

    When I think of my wife, I always think of her head. The shape of
    it, to begin with. The very first time I saw her, it was the back of the
    head I saw, and there was something lovely about it, the angles of it.
    Like a shiny, hard corn kernel or a riverbed fossil. She had what the
    Victorians would call finely shaped head. You could imagine the
    skull quite easily.

    I'd know her head anywhere.

    And what's inside it. I think of that too: her mind. Her brain, all
    those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast,
    frantic centipedes. Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling
    her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down
    her thoughts. What are you thinking, Amy? The question I've asked
    most often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person
    who could answer. I suppose these questions stormcloud over every
    marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are
    you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

    My eyes flipped open at exactly six a.m. This was no avian fluttering
    of the lashes, no gentle blink toward consciousness. The awakening
    was mechanical. A spooky ventriloquist- dummy click of the lids:
    The world is black and then, showtime! 6- 0- 0 the clock said-- in my
    face, first thing I saw. 6- 0- 0. It felt different. I rarely woke at such a
    rounded time. I was a man of jagged risings: 8:43, 11:51, 9:26. My
    life was alarmless.

    At that exact moment, 6- 0- 0, the sun climbed over the skyline of
    oaks, revealing its full summer angry- god self. Its reflection flared
    across the river toward our house, a long, blaring finger aimed at me
    through our frail bedroom curtains. Accusing: You have been seen.
    You will be seen.

    I wallowed in bed, which was our New York bed in our new house,
    which we still called the new house, even though we'd been back here
    for two years. It's a rented house right along the Mississippi River,
    a house that screams Suburban Nouveau Riche, the kind of place
    I aspired to as a kid from my split- level, shag- carpet side of town.
    The kind of house that is immediately familiar: a generically grand,
    unchallenging, new, new, new house that my wife would-- and did--
    detest.

    "Should I remove my soul before I come inside?" Her first line upon
    arrival. It had been a compromise: Amy demanded we rent, not buy,
    in my little Missouri hometown, in her firm hope that we wouldn't
    be stuck here long. But the only houses for rent were clustered in
    this failed development: a miniature ghost town of bank- owned,
    recession- busted, price- reduced mansions, a neighborhood that closed
    before it ever opened. It was a compromise, but Amy didn't see it that
    way, not in the least. To Amy, it was a punishing whim on my part, a
    nasty, selfish twist of the knife. I would drag her, caveman- style, to a
    town she had aggressively avoided, and make her live in the kind of
    house she used to mock. I suppose it's not a compromise if only one of
    you considers it such, but that was what our compromises tended to
    look like. One of us was always angry. Amy, usually.

    Do not blame me for this particular grievance, Amy. The Missouri
    Grievance. Blame the economy, blame bad luck, blame my parents,
    blame your parents, blame the Internet, blame people who use the
    Internet. I used to be a writer. I was a writer who wrote about TV
    and movies and books. Back when...

About the Author-
  • GILLIAN FLYNN is the author of the New York Times bestseller Dark Places, which was a New Yorker Reviewers' Favorite, Weekend TODAY Top Summer Read, Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2009, and Chicago Tribune Favorite Fiction choice; and the Dagger Award winner Sharp Objects, which was an Edgar nominee for Best First novel, a BookSense pick, and a Barnes & Noble Discover selection. Her work has been published in twenty-eight countries. She lives in Chicago with her husband and son.

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    All copies of this title, including those transferred to portable devices and other media, must be deleted/destroyed at the end of the lending period.

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